


Lonely Sleeper

by FallenPissyBird



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 08:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5659165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenPissyBird/pseuds/FallenPissyBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only two times that Roy Harper has seen Jason Todd asleep and defenseless. These are those two times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't published a work for a while. Any suggestions, shoot me a prompt request on my Tumblr, pissybirdboys (I just set it up, so it is empty as heck)

Roy woke up when he felt the press of something against him. No, not something. Someone.

  
The archer opened his eyes, his brow furrowed as he tried to get his mind back on track. He wasn't at home, no… these sheets were way too nice. Silk or something. He let his sleep-heavy eyes adjust to the darkness around him as memories came back, dripping into his head like syrup through a strainer. He had been out drinking, hadn't he? Yeah, someone took him out. He could still taste the fuzzy alcohol on his tongue, the booze making the memories even harder to chase down. Not to mention the disgusting taste was distracting, tasting like bile mixed with stale beer.

  
So was this his booty call for the night then? He glanced over at the shape in the dark, but it was too hard to pick up anything more than a few minor details. He could feel warmth from the body though, leaking out from the softly breathing figure as fingers occasionally squeezed at his own arm. The grip was soft, but prominent. Roy let out a long breath into the darkness and let his head look back up at the ceiling so he could focus on putting his memories back together.

  
Yes, he had been out drinking. Donna had been there, as usual, and Dick with his girl of the night. They were in some shitty Gotham bar, using fake ID's to get booze and down them like no tomorrow. No designated driver because they had no car, no where to drive, nothing to do in the morning. Just one of those nights where everyone wanted to get plastered and fast. Dick had been fighting with Bruce again, but he didn't want to talk about it, not sober at least. Roy was always up for a drink or seven, anything to forget the feelings he had for his best friend with the velvet black hair and eyes like pools of deep water, dragging him in, drowning him when he smiled that famous smile. His straight best friend.

  
Roy's thoughts were interrupted when he felt the shape move beside him, a warm breath washing over his shoulder along with a gentle shudder. His eyes darted down, adjusted enough to see dark hair, and his heart skipped for a second. Dick? No. No, it was thicker, curlier, the kind of hair you could get a handful of and just hold between your fingers, the kind that you could bury your face in and breathe in the scent of whoever owned it. He watched for a moment longer, wondering if the movement would continue and he could see a face, but they settled back into their sleep, fingers still wound around Roy's arm and face still hidden against his shoulder as if hiding from the real world.

  
Roy's eyes settled back onto the dark ceiling, taking note of the light fixture that looked familiar. He rifled through his memories to where he left off, when Dick was drunk and leaning on the bar counter like it was the only steady thing in the world, filling Roy in on every single detail of the fight he had with Bruce. Replaced. Hurt. Too young. Scared. The rest of the conversation was swallowed by the liquor he had downed his own sorrows in. Only the key phrases stuck out, but it was enough for Roy to figure it was about the new Robin. How Dick was hurt to be replaced, how the kid was too young to be there, how Dick was scared of how their relationship would turn out. Or at least that's how Roy figured the spiel went.

  
Another movement, but Roy didn't look down at the figure. Instead, he glanced at the room around him. Now that his eyes were adjusted, he could see the unitard strewn on the ground, the mug he got the acrobat for Christmas, the robe hanging on the bathroom door, which was ajar. This was Dick's room in the manor. Wait, if he was in Dick's room, that meant they had crashed here, too drunk to get back to the apartments. And if he was in Dick's bed, then where was Dick? And who… he looked down at the shape again, whose movement earlier had tilted his head so Roy could see a face.

  
Definitely not a booty call. This was a kid, couldn't be older than 12, 13 maybe. Curly dark hair, soft lashes, and oh god were those _freckles_? Roy's wide eyes lingered on the freckles for a moment longer, before they narrowed to finish solving the mystery, scouring what was visible on the boy's face. Lips, with a healing split on the bottom, parted slightly as he slept. Eyelids fluttering, like he was lost in his dream. Mask lines, from someone who took off their mask too quickly. This was Robin, the new Robin, the second. What was his name? Roy wasn't sure he had ever even been told his name in the first place, honestly. Why was he in bed with the second Robin, and why wasn't the first one in his own bed?

  
A groan from the bathroom filled in what was left to be filled in Roy's memory, and he let out a long breath when he realized he had been holding it in his startled befuddlement. Dick was sick, curled around the toilet. Must've fallen asleep there, puking cheap tequila and beer into the porcelain throne while Roy passed out on his bed. He had never intended to stay the night, which was clear from how he was still in his day clothes, tank top and dirty old jeans. He had just intended to wait out Dick's sick spell and get him to bed, but laying down with his alcohol-laden brain knocked him out. Then he must have wormed his way under the blankets somehow, probably in his sleep. Why the second Robin was curled against him now though, was still a mystery.

  
Roy looked back down at the kid, whose sudden shiver drew his attention. The archer paused for a moment, before he reached over their bodies with his free arm to pull the blanket closer to the sleeping boy, who actually hummed in his sleep and huddled closer. The redhead's brow furrowed, remembering to the only other times he had seen the boy, with mask and pixie boots donned, always grinning and boasting and kicking. But here and now, he really was just a kid, a small kid, smaller than Dick ever was. Or maybe he just seemed smaller because Roy was bigger now.

  
But why was he here? Why was he curled up against the archer, sleeping with his fluttering eyelashes and his breath slipping through parted lips so softly it was like he was keeping it a secret? A possibility came to mind a moment later, when the boy's brow furrowed to a crease in the middle, his lips pulling shut to a thin line, jaw clenching against Roy's arm. Soft whimpers came from the child's throat, making Roy's chest ache as he wondered what was coming to the Robin's mind to taint his dreams. He was such a brash kid, headstrong and fearless, it made Roy think nothing could penetrate those walls. But then again, Roy couldn't be one to talk; he had nightmares of his own, but kept his own personality up as untouchable, unbreakable.

  
Roy glanced to the bathroom door, but he couldn't move without waking the kid up, and he also didn't want to be tasked with waking a hungover Dick Grayson. So instead, he held his breath, looking back over at the kid who was beginning to shudder against his body. He lifted his free hand, and hesitated for only a moment before he was resting it on the Robin boy's head, letting his fingers sink in through the curly locks to brush them out of the way and try to soothe him. The reaction was instantaneous- the child went from shivering to stilling, a sigh slipping out of his relaxed lips, and his eyes steadied behind his lids as he slept soundly once more. Roy let out his captive breath in relief, thankful the boy hadn't woken and asked him what in the world he was doing, why a stranger was touching him. But then again, Roy had a reason to be here, and there hadn't been a kid in the bed when he passed out here.

  
He kept combing his fingers through the curly locks for several more moments, just enjoying the texture as they curled around his fingertips and felt like feathers against his skin. But then the boy sighed, a happy, contented sigh, and Roy was afraid the action could wake him if he continued. So instead, he moved his hand to rest it on his own stomach, his eyes lingering on the sleeping boy with the freckles sprinkling his face. Sparse, not thick and clustered like his own, but instead like stars on a cloudy night, peeking out from between the dark shapes like a secret, like a blessing. And the last thought on his mind as he fell asleep, watching the kid's sleeping face, was simple.

  
Where the fuck did Bruce find these kids?


	2. Chapter 2

Roy wasn't a big sleeper, but after the day he had, even his mind's racing pace was slowed to the speed limit. Drug organization, big one, taken down in a single day, in Gotham no less. He was going to ask Jason how he was faring, but the gunman didn't stick around long enough for Roy to ask- he rarely ever did. So as the archer trudged towards his bedroom, he waited to hear the telling sound of a door slamming to signal that Jason was in his own room and out of commission for the night. And then the inventor was pushing his way into his room, letting the door swing closed behind him, before he fell into his welcoming bed with a sigh of exhaustion, the kind of sigh that he could feel weighing into the marrow of his bones.

  
He didn't sleep through the night. Roy rarely ever slept through the night, his mind ran too fast in a defense mechanism to never linger on the tragedies of his past. So when he found himself blinking awake at some odd hour of the night, or possible morning, he wasn't surprised. But he was surprised when he felt something beside him. No, not something. Someone.

  
His memory wasn't thick, it wasn't missing pages this time around. He was clear and awake, remembering distinctively how he got undressed, slid into bed, and fell asleep, all entirely alone. But there was definitely a warm body curled against him, strong fingers curled around his mid arm, warm breath washing over his shoulder in a deja-vu so strong that Roy was convinced if he looked around, he'd recognize Dick's room. The archer never forgot that night, seeing Robin sleeping so soundly against him, all of his walls down. He would never see Jason like that again, never even see him really, truly sleep, aside from that night. And the fact that the boy was gone in the morning, it made the redhead wonder if it ever even happened in the first place.

  
But this, this was definitely real. Roy could feel the hardened pads of Jason's fingers against his arm, tough and calloused from those years of fighting and pulling the trigger. He could feel his breath, warm and slightly wet from how close his lips were to his skin, making him suppress a shiver with each gentle caress of breath. He could even smell the gunman, a distinctive scent of smoke, gunpowder, and sweat. A scent that Roy could only smell when he could get close enough to his partner, which wasn't all that often. But this was a whole new level of close, so close that Roy could detect a hint of shampoo with the scent. Not that he was complaining, he was the opposite of complaining. So opposite, that he hoped his body didn't take this the wrong way and his blood stayed away from Arsenal Jr., which shot something far different from arrows.

  
The inventor let out a stressed, quiet breath between his clenched teeth. He let his gaze glue to the ceiling as his new bedmate slept softly at his side, and his mind went a mile-a-minute in an attempt to figure this situation out. He didn't know why Jason was here, he didn't know if he could move without waking the other man, and he didn't know how the idiot had gotten in here without waking him in the first place. Fucking batboys and their stealthy feet. But he knew that he was fidgety when he was awake, and he knew that he couldn't just lay here with idle fingers or his mind would go to places he couldn't have it stay.

Places like Star City, how it looked when he lived there, when he had a cute, quiet apartment tucked away in the folds of the city. He always loved the entryway, because that was would signal when he was really off-duty for the night, stepping through that door would take the world off his shoulders and he wasn't Arsenal anymore, he had a different title. An amazing title, he was someone's-

  
His mind was snapped away just before the waters got dangerous, and his eyes fell to the sleeping man beside him. The fingers, they had drawn his attention, they had tightened. And they were still doing so, not the tiny shift in grip like they had done the first time around. No, this was a death grip, pads digging in like spikes, nails gripping flesh like they were trying to break through to the bone, latch into the deepest levels and hold on. Roy's breath stuttered in his throat- not in pain, his muscled arm could take the pain- but in something else. He could see Jason now, his chin tilted up like he was trying to escape his body, like he couldn't breathe and couldn't get to the surface. His jaw was tight, teeth clenched and bared as his lips pulled back, eyes squeezed shut like he was terrified of the world around him and could block it out if he didn't see it. His brow, which Roy expected to be furrowed in pain, in rage, was pulled up instead of down. Jason was afraid. Terrified. And after a moment of watching the man's face, Roy noticed the final piece that spurred him into action. The man wasn't breathing.

  
With an instinct of a man who had once been a father, Roy reacted instantly. He didn't wake him, that risked a reaction of violence from the gunman. Instead, his fingers moved to Jason's hair, remembering those years before of being in the same position, the deja-vu growing stronger the moment he felt the hair under his fingers again. They weren't as curly as they were all those years ago, but the wave was still there. And they were thick and soft, welcoming to Roy's touch as he ran his fingertips over his scalp.

  
The reaction was instantaneous, just as it had been before. Roy figured he had tamed the beast just before the nightmare had morphed into a terror. Roy had witnessed the tailends of Jason's terrors, mostly because the antihero would scream in such pain, in such terror, that Roy feared for his partner's life. But here and now, a shuddering breath pulled into Jason's lungs, teeth pulling apart as if they had been the walls to deny oxygen to his lungs. There was no scream, no agony coursing through his lips, only breathing and small whimpers that Roy hadn't heard from him aside from the night years and years ago. Back when Roy was sure the boy had attached himself to the archer because he had thought it was Dick in the darkness. But there was no stumbling into Dick's room here, and Jason hadn't been in the manor in years. So why was he here?

  
The question could wait, and the inventor invested his focus on carefully combing his fingers through Jason's hair, wanting to chase the demons away from his broken mind in any way he possibly could. The man began to relax, the small sounds of distress melting away to soft breathing. And Roy, fingers still moving to soothe the gunman back to regular sleeping, let his gaze flicker up to the ceiling. He didn't want his eyes to linger on that jaw, sprinkled with stubble that he could never touch, or that strong brow, curving over piercing eyes when they were open. Or those lips, looking always so pressed when awake, but were slightly parted now and almost inviting. Or the freckles, which were at times, hard to notice. But to the archer, he could see them every time he looked at Jason, and how desperately Roy wanted to sit and count each one, kiss each one, because they stayed. They survived his childhood, his death, and the pit. They survived and stayed on his skin, reminding Roy of the night he first met Jason without really meeting Jason, of the night he had the chance to count his freckles and he missed it.

  
What if he hadn't? What if he appreciated the kid when he was around? Gave him the friend he desperately needed, but never had? Sure, Roy had been older, but Jason was alone, and shouldered with the responsibility of being a Robin, the second Robin, filling in someone else's shoes. And if he wasn't so alone, would he have run off to find his mom? Would he have gone into that warehouse? Roy nearly cursed aloud, fingers still moving through curly hair, as he knew he was playing the foolish mind game again. He had gone over it again and again in terms of Lian. What if he had taken the day off? What if-

  
"Roy." What? Roy's attention was snapped back to his sleeping partner, who was apparently not sleeping anymore. No, those vivid teal eyes were anything but sleeping. They were open, and they were watching him, watching him in a way that Roy had only ever seen in brief glances, like he was about to say something, but nothing ever comes. So Roy opened his mouth, just barely, trying to explain what was going on, why he was touching the gunman in such a way. But he figured he deserved answers first, so he tried to piece together a question, any question, where to start-

  
Jason's mouth cut his thoughts off. The gunman had stretched his neck and kissed him, soft and silent, filling Roy's head with so much electricity that his mind just shorted out and stopped. It was quiet, and it was slow, and oh god it was nice. And Jason's lips were rough and chapped, his breath warm as he exhaled against Roy's mouth, just barely, as if stuttering in his own amazement. Jason Todd, amazed? Impossible. Then the former Robin's hand was cupping Roy's face, bringing him in closer, just a bit deeper. Roy could feel the calluses on his fingers, but he didn't mind it, if anything he loved it. It was Jason, bringing him in for a kiss, a kiss that made him breathless and dizzy and kept his mind quiet.

  
But then it was gone, it was over, and Roy was left catching his breath with his fingers curled around Jason's wrist in a subconscious way of keeping him close. And Jason, the real Jason Todd, was smiling, not smirking, not grinning, but just smiling. Like he used to, before he died. Like he had just done that amazing stunt and wanted the world to see, dared the world to watch. But it was gone in a second, making Roy wonder if it had ever even been there in the first place. And when it left, the inventor's mind started up again, working even faster in light of recent events. So many questions, all hitting him at once, opening his mouth to flood out, but only a single word would come; "Why?"

  
"You had that look on your face." Jason spoke, close enough that Roy could taste his breath. Mint and cigarettes. "Like you were thinkin' too much." Slight street accent on his words, which were deep and rough. "I uh, wanted to help." Roy noticed the moment of hesitation, of doubt, as those blue-green eyes flickered down to Roy's lips and then back up again. "Did it?"

  
Roy let out a breath of a quiet laugh, lips pulling back in a smile as he squeezed the wrist in his grip. He nodded, he was sure talking wasn't going to be his forte at the moment, not with all the questions swirling in his head. Jason had woken up in his arms, had seen his expression, and decided to kiss him to help snap him out of it? Unbelievable. Not to mention his presence in the bed in the first place.

  
"Good." The younger man let out his grunt and twitched his brow decidely, before he settled back down to lay his head where it had been to start. "In all honesty, I pictured our first kiss to be a bit more forceful, but you have a tendency to shatter my expectations Harper." His voice was gruff and heavy, like he was still tired and fully expected Roy to go back to sleep with him.

  
But Roy just watched him lay his head back down, even more questions adding to the jumble of his mind. Jason had been picturing their first kiss? What kind of forceful? And Roy shattered _his_ expectations? For him, it was the other way around. He could never figure this guy out, and as he let his body relax beside him, he figured he'd never stop trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked :) pissybirdboys - Tumblr


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